by Toby Neal
She remembered the first time she’d seen him. There’d been a scratching on her window. A blue-purple dragon the size of a small pony was sitting on his haunches outside. He looked at her with lantern-gold eyes. Hello, Bea, he’d said without words—a ringing like an echo in her inner ear, his unique way of speaking to her mind.
“What are you doing here? What are you?”
A mo’o dragon. Your `aumakua. I’m here to help you.
She’d awoken the next day a little stronger to deal with her mother’s loss. She’d seen the dragon often since, and he’d helped her with advice and warnings. She’d wondered at first if she were going crazy, if experiencing such a creature happened to others, but she’d finally stopped wondering how or why he’d come and was just grateful that he had. Most people seldom got to see their `aumakua—let alone get to know a legendary mo`o, the Hawaiian water dragon.
“Why don’t you have a Hawaiian name?” she asked him one day. “Beosith doesn’t sound like an `aumakua.”
I am descended from some of the great dragons of the past, who flew and breathed fire and ate cattle in places far from here. They gave me my name so they wouldn’t be forgotten.
That was the first time he shared pictures with her. The giant dragons of the past were mighty indeed and had been hunted to extinction. Now only the mo`o and their small flying-lizard cousins were left in existence.
What is that in the sky? Bea wondered now. Do you know?
Sometimes the dragon answered. This wasn’t one of those times.
Rainbow gave a snort of greeting at the sight of her. Bea took the bridle off the peg on the shelter wall and slipped the bit into the horse’s mouth. Rainbow chomped, rolling the metal with her tongue, as Bea hooked the headstall over her ears.
“Shh. You know the drill, girl.” She led the mare to the gate, unhooked the wire loop at the top, and led the horse out to the stump of an avocado tree. She tossed a felt riding blanket over the mare’s back and tightened the straps under her belly.
Bea grabbed a handful of mane and gave a little hop, swinging her leg over Rainbow’s hindquarters, and hauled herself into place. She squeezed her thighs, and they moved out of the scrim of trees surrounding the little house and up the rutted red dirt road, rendered black-and-white by moonlight. Bea nudged the mare into a trot as they moved away from the property.
Lanai was a humped pear shape, roughly eighteen miles long by sixteen wide, with a single ridge of mountain that captured rain via towering Cook Pines along its crest. Because of the geography, everything but the topmost mesa where Lanai City was located was on a slope—and other than the stand of trees and great outcropping of rock behind their house, the landscape was wind-scrubbed grass and bushes that had grown up to replace the pineapple that once blanketed the tiny island. Nowadays there was one employer—the Fair Isle Hotel chain, with two locations on the island. All the families that made up the town, including their father, were dependent on it for work.
Bea leaned forward, giving Rainbow a little nudge with her heels, and the mare broke into a canter, heading up the road to Lanai City. The grandiose name had always made her smile, as the entire town consisted of a single open grassy square bordered by small shops and a sprawl of cottages that housed most of the island. The island was privately owned, development clustered in the city except for their house, a rogue outlier built by a foreman in the 1950s who’d had a yen for quiet and a special dispensation from Dole Pineapple.
Bea veered off the road to shortcut the rugged slope along a goat trail. Rainbow knew the way and didn’t falter.
She reached the crest of rock just above the tiny town of Lanai City. She slid off Rainbow and tied her to the branch of a scrub guava, ascending to the flat sandstone outcropping on top, still warm from the sun. Anticipation to see her friend Jaden made her breath speed up even more than the exertion of climbing.
“Hey.” A shadow rose on the opposite side of the rock. Bea’s heartbeat picked up.
She and Jaden had been best friends since elementary school, when the Whitely family had moved to Lanai from Molokai so her father could work at the Lanai Lodge as one of the head groundskeepers, a good job that had eroded with time and drink.
Jaden had never minded that she was a girl. He’d cared only that they liked the same things—fishing, diving, riding, and hunting. After Mama died and Dad had pulled them out of school and life in town, Jaden had been the only friend who never gave up on her. He’d been the one to set up their rendezvous spot and get her out fishing and reef picking to supplement the family income.
“Hey, yourself.” Bea sandwiched her hands behind her head on the warm rock, looking up at the colorful night sky.
Jaden pointed at the sky. “What the hell’s going on up there?”
“Don’t swear,” Bea said automatically. Swearing was the kind of thing that could slip out in front of Dad. “I’ve seen pictures of the northern lights. It kind of looks like that.”
Jaden stretched out beside her and imitated her posture. He was a lean shadow beside her, but she knew his hard angles and wiry strength, the warm brown of his skin, just as well as her own. She could feel his warmth mere inches away, bringing a tingle along her body that raised the hairs on her arms.
“It’s pretty, whatever it is.” Silence fell over them as they watched the changing light show above.
“Well, we should probably get down to the reef,” Bea said. “It’s getting late.”
“Sounds good.” Jaden grinned, a flash of white in the dark. “Got my weapons.” He tapped a mesh bag at his side. It rattled with something metal.
“Mine are at the beach.” Bea scrambled back down the rock and untied Rainbow. She mounted and reached out to give Jaden a hand, but, taller than she, he boosted himself up, swinging in behind her to reach around her waist with his arms. Bea stifled the thrill that zipped up her back at his touch—they’d ridden double hundreds of times, she told herself.
The mare set off, heading downhill this time. They made short work of getting to the long, wide-open beach known as Shipwreck Beach because of the giant rusting hulk of an old freighter embedded in the barrier reef.
“I should check the news when I get back,” Jaden said. “Maybe there will be something on about the northern lights.”
“I hope so.”
“It would be great if I could call or text you.”
“You know how it is. We don’t have a phone—or TV or Internet. Anyway, we can meet again tomorrow night, and you can tell me then. I might hear something on the radio.”
The little boombox in the living room was the only link Bea and Sam had to the outside world, and even that was dependent on running the generator. Their father kept their only phone, a minutes-only burner, plugged into a charger locked in his truck.
The tide was out—Bea had checked—and conditions were good for picking opihi, the single-shelled local delicacy that thrived on the rocks of the reef. Catching them always reminded her of happy hours learning reef skills from her mother.
They left the mare tied near a clump of grass. Bea took her shortened three-pronged spear, tabis—sock-like rubberized shoes with a felt sole used to protect feet on the reef—mesh bag, and opihi knife out of a hiding place under a driftwood log. “I should bring my throw net down,” Jaden said, not for the first time.
“Yeah, but then you have to rinse it off, and it’s heavy.”
“I know—but we could get so many more fish at once.” Jaden was very good with the circular net cast by hand over schools of fish.
“This is okay. If we had some fresh water down here, it might be worth it, but if you leave the net salty, it’ll be junk in a month.” Bea slid her feet out of her cowboy boots and into the rubber tabis. “Tide looks extra low tonight.”
“Yeah, we hardly need the flashlight with the light show going off in the sky.” Jaden had worn his tabis to meet her, and now they walked out onto the reef, picking their way around deeper pools. Jaden pointed a flashlight arou
nd the edges of the tide pools where the opihi liked to cling. They worked their way, filling their bags with the circular limpets, to the outer edge of the reef. A line of surf, glowing in the unearthly light, defined the edge of deeper water.
Bea cocked the three-prong spear, stretching the loop of rubber tubing and twisting it halfway down around the aluminum shaft of the spear. It took effort to hold the simple weapon at the ready, but her hands were strong from hours of hard work. She moved away from the beam of Jaden’s light, close to a big, deep hole in the reef. She squatted down slowly, watching the shadows moving in the dark water until one swam close to the edge of the pool. She stood and shot the spear in one lightning move.
The spear flew forward into the shadowy water, and she followed it, pushing the spear forward until it hit the bottom. She’d kept the rubber loop that propelled it over her wrist, and now she yanked it back and lifted the spear with a scooping motion so that whatever she’d hit couldn’t wiggle off the prongs.
Jaden must have heard the splashing. He shone the flashlight on a fat aweo`weo impaled on the tines. “Nice one.”
“There are more in here. These guys like to come out at night. Maybe you should have brought that net.”
“Next time. We’ll still have extra-low tide tomorrow night.” Jaden aimed the light as Bea worked the flapping red fish down the prongs and stuffed it into her bag, already heavy with opihi.
Bea was wading forward slowly, thigh-deep in the inky water of a big tide pool, when she heard Beosith.
Watch out.
She stopped. Lifted the spear high, scanning the water. The dancing light overhead played across the surface, winking and teasing—but darker than the deepest shadow, almost hidden by the distracting glimmer of far-off light, she spotted a sinuous shape.
“Hey!” Nick heard a loud shout from the direction of where he’d been lifting wallets. Nick’s heart thundered. His hood was turned up, he was now back to Notre Dame on the outside, and his ears were plugged with earbuds that weren’t turned on. His jeans were belted low around his buttocks so they hung in a sullen pile over the expensive Nikes.
He kept his head down, his mind scurrying to recall how he might have “kissed the dog,” or let his face be noticed. It was hours later, and he’d stopped working a while ago, getting a little distance and napping while he waited for the flight.
Now in line, he shuffled forward, hoodie low over his face, handing his boarding pass to the gate attendant.
“Hey! Stop that kid!”
Nick didn’t react, just slumped in teenager mode down the metal tunnel of the on-ramp leading to the plane. Even as he scanned for his seat on board, he knew he probably wasn’t in the clear; even in the air he wouldn’t be. They could radio the destination, have him picked up when he got off, or he could get grabbed now.
Being cool was key. At this point he didn’t even know if it was him they’d been yelling for.
Nick found his seat, way in the back near the bathrooms. He was on the window, and he quickly stowed the backpack under the seat in front of him, slid out into the aisle and into the tiny bathroom.
He rammed the bolt shut and splashed water on his face, shaking with adrenaline. He’d stay in here until they shut the cabin for takeoff and made him get back in his seat. Hopefully, he’d have shaken the tail by then.
It occurred to him that he spent a lot of time in restrooms and that he’d never liked them. Maybe in Hawaii he’d give up the game and go straight. He’d just have to wait and see what life with his grandparents was like.
Chapter Three
Bea aimed as best she could and shot the spear, following the three-prong into the water to drive it deep. The black water seemed to erupt around her, and she felt a powerful lashing against her legs and arms. The spear bucked and surged in her hands as she struggled to pin whatever it was to the bottom. She lifted her head and sucked some air, hearing Jaden yelling. The flashlight bounced a yellow lance of light through the water as he jumped in next to her.
“I’ve got it pinned.” She coughed, keeping pressure on the spear and working her arms back up the shaft so she could stand upright. Jaden shone the light down into the water.
A massive moray eel, its head buried in the sandy bottom and pinned down by the spear, wound and rewound its muscular, brown-spotted body around the spear, flailing and lashing the water.
“Damn!” Jaden exclaimed. “That mother’s huge!”
Bea moved farther back as the eel’s body slithered across her legs. “He’ll get off the spear as soon as I lift the prongs off the bottom.”
“I’ll cut his head off right there.” Jaden took his dive knife out of his bag. “Hold the light for me.”
Before she could protest, he handed her the flashlight, huffed a few giant breaths to fill his lungs, and plunged underwater.
She shone the light with one hand and put all her weight on the spear with the other, resisting the powerful force of the eel’s thrashings. The tableau before her had a nightmarish quality as the flashlight played across bubbles rising from Jaden’s waving crop of black hair, his muscular back, and the silver flash of his blade. Poufs of blood that looked black in the water swirled as her friend struggled with the eel. Its frenzied lashing stirred up the bottom, and between the clouds of blood and sand, Bea couldn’t see a thing.
Suddenly Jaden burst up out of the water, gasping. Thick as Sam’s thigh, the headless eel, still lashing, pumped blood over his hands. She could see it took all he had to keep a grip on it, even without its head.
“Awesome!” He heaved himself out of the pool and ran across the reef for the beach, still wrestling with the writhing corpse.
Bea made the familiar scooping motion with the spear and brought it up out of the water. The three prongs had penetrated the eel just behind its head. Jaws the size of tongs snapped open and shut over teeth like a double row of horse-sized hypodermic needles, and its tiny baleful black eye glared hate at her. Blood ran from the ragged hack job—what was left of its neck—down the shaft of her spear.
She drove the spear back into the sandy bottom and stepped on the eel’s head, yanking out the prongs and leaving the head for the crabs.
Bea found herself shaking with adrenaline aftermath as she hauled herself out of the pool and made her way to the beach, where she could still hear an occasional whoop from Jaden. By the time she made her way to the shore, he’d gutted the eel and cut it into several large chunks.
“Might as well go home,” he said, holding up a hefty piece. “We’ve got plenty here.”
“Sounds good. Let’s clean the rest of these fish.”
Thank God her father left so early in the morning—he wouldn’t know how late she’d end up sleeping after the nighttime reef raid. Bea made short work of gutting the fish, giving Jaden half. He’d meticulously divided the opihi and eel between the two of them.
“Do you want to keep these, or have me take them to the store?” Jaden knew everyone in town and would sell all the opihi and fish they could spare to the market or restaurants.
“We’ll take a little home to eat but we need to sell the rest. We need some more gas for the generator—the hotel cut Dad’s hours starting next week, and he doesn’t realize how much I have to run the generator just for a few hours of light at night.” Bea rubbed sand on her hands and swished them through the salt water to get the fish guts off.
“Okay. I’ll bring a full can of gas tomorrow night. Why’d they cut his hours?” Unspoken between them was the fact that Jaden’s father had replaced Will Whitely as head groundskeeper at the Lanai Lodge and probably had something to do with that decision.
“He’s been drinking during the day.” Bea packed her gear with irritable movements. “It’s been getting worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Your dad has to do what he has to do. I’m just bummed Dad’s going to be around the house more. I worry about Sam. Dad takes things out on him.” Bea hid her gear under the log.
She’d never talked about her dad’s drinking before. It felt good to acknowledge what a problem it was becoming. “I can’t protect him all the time Dad’s around.”
“I wish there were something I could do. Sam could hang out at our house in town. My brother Jeremy likes him.” Jaden swished water on himself to get the worst of the blood from the eel off.
“Dad won’t let him go. There isn’t anything you can do. But thanks.”
They woke up the tired, grumpy mare. The ride back up the trail had a surreal quality to it—the combination of exhaustion, their wetness, and the powerful smells of fish, boy, and horse combined with the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky to make Bea feel disembodied. The light phenomena were now so bright they eclipsed the moon. She shivered, her fingers numb on the reins, and Jaden clasped her close in a hug from behind.
“You’re cold.”
“Wet clothes. Yeah.”
He rubbed her arms briskly. “Let’s hurry.”
“She’s tired.” Still, Bea nudged Rainbow into a weary trot. The now-heavy bags bounced against the mare’s sides, and the horse snorted, her distaste evident.
“The lights seem to be moving,” Jaden commented as he slid off the mare at the jutting rock, their rendezvous point. Bea tilted her head back to see, and indeed the phenomena seemed to have moved a little north.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the earth’s rotation? I’ll look it up on the computer at home.” She had an old PC with Encyclopedia Britannica on CD, a poor substitute for Google.
“I'll see what I can find out. See you tomorrow night.” He squeezed her dangling calf, a friendly gesture that sent a ripple of feeling up Bea’s leg.
She wished these little electric shocks would stop—she felt them changing her friendship with Jaden in some way she wasn’t willing to think about—but at the same time they felt good. He took down his bulging net bag, leaving her much lighter one filled with fish and eel chunks.
